Did I mention we put Charlie in daycare? Have I mentioned that we call our daughter Charlie? Anyway, we put her in daycare because well it was time. I dropped her off for her first day last Wednesday and it was honestly the worst day of my life. As I got her strapped in the car seat and locked the front door to our house the emotions hit me like bag of bricks. Tears flowed down my eyes and they didn’t stop until I pulled up to the daycare. I told myself to man the f up and I went inside, signed her in and handed her over. Literally.
There is a partition in the infant room, they don’t want parents in there to contaminate the place and I feel half okay about this. Half like “what the fuck, this is my kid and I should be able to go in there” and the other half like “Great! I don’t want my kid to get all germy anyway.”
When I handed her over, she clung to me but she didn’t cry. I tried to fight over the tears but they won. I was a mess. Another parent in the daycare was dropping off her daughter and saw me and tried to make me feel better, but it just made me sob some more. The next day I came to find out that same woman who tried to console me left the place in tears herself, saying she knew what I was going through and it was also the worst day of her life. Great, guilt x2.
I left Chuck’s daycare (did I tell you we also call her Chuck..is that mean?), had a great cry in the car, called my husband to make me feel better, called my mom to make me feel better and then drove to work. All day I was a mess. The roll of toilet paper (in lieu of tissue) I took to work with me was nearly raveled down to the cardboard by the end of the day. I called at 10 AM to check on her (cue the crying) and didn’t call again. And I won’t call ever again. Mike picked her up at about 3 PM and thankyoulordbabyjesus the day was over.
And that was only day one.
Thursday was day two and it was actually easier on both of us, assuming because at least I knew it was last day of daycare for the week. Mike and I work opposite hours most of the week so she is only in for two day out of the week at this point, more days later on in the year most likely. There was crying and clinging, but less of a fight with my emotions this time. I left there upset, but not in tears. I felt horribly embarrassed to be crying in front of strangers as I left there yesterday so today I put on my brave big girl face and I did better. Charlotte did fine as well I assume (I didn’t call to check on her, duh). Mike picked her up around 3 again and that is that.
Friday morning.
Fever. Runny nose. Coughing. All day long. Went to the doctor “It is just a cold”. Um, OK doc.
Saturday. FEVER. RUNNY NOSE. COUGH. Not just a normal tiny baby cough, but a loud barking, horrible sounding disgusting cough. Croup. My baby got croup. Spent most of Saturday and Sunday in the bathroom that was turned into a make shift sauna. Did you know that is really the only way to get rid of croup? Odd.
Sunday night: I feel like shit.
Monday: I think I am dying.
Tuesday: Feeling better.
Wednesday: Chest cold.
I haven’t been sick in a very long time. I contracted the Swine flu in October 2009, a month before my wedding and the exact week I was going to Mexico for the annual mother-daughter trip. I still went. Dos XX, I learned, cures swine flu*. As does hours upon hours in the sunshine and sleep**. So basically, take a vacation and you’ll feel better.***
Moral of the story. Two days in daycare. THIS sick from two days of daycare. Life isn’t fair? Life is awesome? Life sucks? No. This is life, and now I get it.
* Results may vary
** Sunshine? Maybe. Sleep. Yes.
*** Factual Statement.
Here are some pictures off my phone, since this was sort of a Debby Downer post:
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Waving "bye bye" |
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| After a few glasses of wine...can you tell? |
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